


In order to bloom.

by allsoulsnight



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Actress!Villanelle, Alternate Universe, Divorced!Eve, F/F, Flirting, Gardener!Eve, Introspective and Deep, It's real soft and real gay y'all, Slow-ish burn for now, Soulmate AU, fate brings them together, smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsoulsnight/pseuds/allsoulsnight
Summary: "A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and one cannot live without love."A young actress finds a journal and photograph inside of a secondhand coat. She sets off to find the owner but finds much, much more.A story about grief, love, and above all: hope.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 44
Kudos: 128
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	1. The Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Happy KE Week to us all!
> 
> For those of you who follow me on Tumblr, this is the AU that I've been on the fence about posting for ages. Bless KE Week for giving me courage to actually do something with it. This is just probably a really niche AU that caters to everything my heart needs, wants, and desires but anyway... Hope you enjoy!

“What if I murdered him? That way we can get a new director.”

“You can’t kill him, Villanelle.” Konstantin said, matter of fact.

Villanelle gave a huff, “Why not?”.

“Because even if he deserved it, they’d take you to prison." he continued, “You know I don’t want to do the show without you.” Konstantin gave a fake pout as he opened the door to a thin hallway with a staircase leading down. “I’d be lonely.”

Villanelle rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. “Raymond is the worst!” She unclenched her balled fists and willed herself to calm down as they descended the steps towards the costume shop.

“You’re late for your fittings.” Dasha, the head seamstress, called out as she looked up from her sewing machine. She’d heard the two coming down the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Dasha.” Konstantin offered. “The scene ran later than scheduled.”

When Dasha saw Villanelle’s expression, she shook her head. “Let me guess, Raymond again?” She stood and walked over to the costume rack, pulling a pair of trousers off with Konstantin’s tag on them. “Go change into these.” She gave the pants to Konstantin and then turned to Villanelle, “What happened?” Dasha was outspoken in her hatred for Raymond, too.

Other than Dasha, Konstantin, and a few technicians backstage, Villanelle didn’t get along with the cast and she most certainly was not liked by the production’s director, Raymond. In fact, there hadn’t been a week of rehearsal that went by where Raymond and Villanelle hadn’t butted heads. Villanelle spared no detail in telling Dasha everything as today brought tensions even higher.

* * *

_“Hold! Hold!” Raymond had called from the middle of the house. “Natasha! You’re supposed to let him kiss you, do not pull away." He refused to call her by her name when she was onstage._

_Diego spoke up as well. “I’m actually supposed to kiss her?" He reached for the script he kept in his back pocket._

_“It’s what your stage direction is, yes.” Raymond explained and then turned to Villanelle. “Natasha is his wife. You’re playing his wife. She would let him kiss her because it is her job to obey her husband. He holds the cards.”_

_“Why?” She had questioned him. “It’s not in the script.”_

_“Yes it is—”_

_“She doesn’t even love Andrei, she’s just manipulating him. It’s the whole point of her-"_

_“I don’t care about the subtext, Natasha.” Raymond said._

_“Villanelle." she corrected._

_“Follow the direction you’ve been given!" he ordered. “From the top of the scene! We won’t move on until we get it right.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and turned to the stage manager as the actors onstage reset for the top of the scene._

_“You’re right, you know...” Konstantin muttered under his breath as Villanelle reset herself offstage; he had been standing against the set with his script in hand listening. “It’s not in the script. She wouldn’t do that.” She rolled her eyes and listened for her cue._

_The scene began again, Villanelle entered and gave her opening lines. As soon as Diego moved forward to kiss her, she painted on a subtle smile while suppressing the urge to push him away from her face. Why are his lips always so wet? She thought as another “Hold!” came from the audience._

_“What was wrong that time, Raymond?” Villanelle asked, stepping back from Diego, wiping her mouth, and putting her hands on her hips. Normally she would respect a director’s notes and approach them after rehearsal, but Raymond always shut her down in her attempts. He had long since lost all respect from Villanelle and he was dancing on her last good nerve._

_“How hard is it for you to understand what I’m saying?" he asked, his face was turning an odd shade of red. “You’re an actress, right?” Villanelle bit her tongue. “Then act! He is your husband, act like you enjoy his affections.”_

_“But Natasha doesn’t, that’s the point." she snapped. The whole of Natasha’s character arc was based around her unhappy marriage and how she manipulates around it to get what she wants._

_Raymond cocked his head and gave her a forced smile. “You should really learn from your scene partner." he said after taking breath. He motioned with a wave of his hand, “You see, Diego understands how to follow direction without question. I urge you to take a page from his book.”_

_“Thank you.” Diego said with a smile and a shit eating grin at Villanelle. He was an opportunist of the worse kind, always bending over backwards to kiss Raymond’s ass. He wasn’t intelligent enough to understand that Raymond’s compliments were backhanded, and the two most certainly didn’t understand the show._

_“Just play the scene how I asked you to. My patience is running thin. Again!” With a snap of his fingers, they reset once more. Villanelle fumed behind the closed door of the set for a long moment before taking a deep breath. Images of Raymond being chopped to pieces with the prop axe sitting by the door graced her mind, but she shook them off and refocused. No sooner did she make her entrance, “HOLD!”_

* * *

Dasha simply shook her head when Villanelle finished. “Men don’t like to be corrected.” Dasha said. “Especially men with tiny penis.” She held up her pinky, making Villanelle give a loud “Hah!”

“You’ve seen it?” Villanelle had asked, leaning forward towards Dasha who simply grimaced and shook her head.

“Goodness, no! But I’ve been in this business a while. People talk.” She took a sip of the coffee from a mug with ‘Dasha’ custom printed on the side in cursive. “Plus, Dasha knows a thing or two about inseams.”

“He’s the worst!” Villanelle droned. “He asks me to make a different choice in the scene, I do it, he doesn’t like it. Then he just tells me exactly what to do anyway.” She mimicked Raymond’s dialect almost perfectly, “Diego makes interesting choices. Why can’t you be more like him? Take a page from his book!”

“Are you actually trying?” The seamstress countered.

“Diego’s an arsehole who can’t breathe out of his nose. Why would I try to be like--?”

“No, Villanelle.” Dasha stopped her. “Are you actually trying your best in rehearsals?” Villanelle didn’t respond but her eyes cast down to the ground. Dasha continued, “You’ve trained your whole life for a part like this. You know being a professional actor takes patience and responsibility. You need to have both.” Konstantin walked back into the room with his costume trousers now on, simply listening to the conversation. 

“I don’t have both. I have neither.” Villanelle said, pulling her fingers through her hair and plopping down in front of one of the sewing machines. 

“Then pretend that you have! Come on, Villanelle. They don’t give roles like this to just anybody.” Dasha stood and walked over to put a hand on Villanelle’s shoulder. “Raymond may be stupid, but you still have to play well with others.”

“Dasha’s right.” Konstantin offered as he set his clothing down and stepped up on the round fitting platform.

“Just play Natasha how you have been playing her but don’t ruffle any more feathers than you have to. Kill him with kindness, yes?” Dasha then turned to start working on Konstantin’s pant legs, the fabric was too long and pooled around his ankles. She sighed deeply. “You need to get taller. I’m tired of taking up all of your pants.”

Villanelle sat and tuned out Konstantin and Dasha’s chit chat. She simmered for a few moments, evened out, and eventually got distracted.

Dasha scolded her suddenly from across the room, “Villanelle! What did I say about touching the sewing machines?”

Villanelle immediately pulled her hand back in faux innocence and scooted away. In front of her were a few very awful attempts to thread the bottom bobbin of the industrial sewing machine. Somehow, she’d managed to tangle the thread into little knots that would surely catch and possibly break the needle when someone went to use the machine again. Leaning back into the swivel chair, Villanelle gave a dramatic sigh as her wavy honey blonde hair swayed back and forth as she rocked side to side. Not even a minute later, “This is so boring!”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I’d take offense.” Dasha replied as she continued to hem the pant leg of the grey trousers she was working on.

Konstantin gave a boisterous chuckle. “I thought you didn’t allow children in your workshop!" he said softly to Dasha.

“I can hear you, Konstantin.” The chair swiveled their way and Villanelle shot them an upside-down look. She made a face and swiveled back around again. “How much longer, Dasha?”

“Patience, monkey!" she said, looking up from over black glasses that were perched on her nose. “Why don’t you be useful until your fitting, huh? I just got some new coats in the back." she asked motioning over her shoulder to costume storage. “Go sort them for me.”

“Fine.” With a huff, Villanelle dramatically swiveled the chair around again and stood up. “But you owe me!" she said to Dasha, leaning in towards her ear as she passed the pair.

“Go!” Dasha playfully slapped Villanelle’s calf and laughed when the younger woman gave a dramatic gasp and nursed the spot. “They’re secondhand so make sure you empty out the pockets. I’ll be having them cleaned tomorrow." she called out as Villanelle stomped out of the room.

Konstantin simply watched the exchange and smiled. “You know, she really reminds me of my daughter sometimes." he gave another chuckle, “Irina is much more annoying, though.” He then stretched up onto his toes, pulling the fabric of his pant leg out of Dasha’s fingertips.

“Ne dvigaysya!” Dasha articulated around the pins in her mouth, grabbing Konstantin’s pant leg again. She pulled the pins from her lips once she was done and stood. “There! Now take them off so I can hem them.”

Konstantin looked around, “Take them off? Right here?”

“Are you worried someone might see your pretty little legs?" she replied with a laugh and waved him away with her hand. “Come on! I don’t have all day.”

Meanwhile, Villanelle wandered costume storage until she found the new coats. Absentmindedly she ran her hand over them, taking in the scent of dust and old fabric. She began pulling coats off the rack at random and searching through the pockets. Some she would swing over her shoulders and admire in the mirror, others she would toss unceremoniously in the laundry bins separated by size. Occasionally she found trash in the pockets like ticket stubs, tissues, the occasional old hard candy. When she found an unused condom in one suit jacket, she threw it into the trash with a dramatic gag. 

The Ambassadors Theatre, located on the West End, was fortunate to have ample space to store costume pieces from not only past shows but shows that were currently offered or in development. Dasha was their main costume designer and they were very happy to have her, happy enough that they also allowed her to rent out costumes to local regional venues as well. She could ‘turn trash into treasure,’ Dasha always swore. These coats were pulled last minute for their production of Anton Chekov’s _The Three Sisters_ which opened, ironically, in three days.

Villanelle eyed a coat in the back of the rack and pulled it out. It was a plain navy men’s dinner jacket that had beautiful gold buttons on the sleeves and down the front. She ran a finger over the buttons and pulled the jacket on. She ran her hands down the lapels and stuck out her chin proudly, imagining herself with a beard like Konstantin’s. Mimicking his stature, she made a few faces in the mirror until she was bored. When she slid off the coat, her hand hit something hard that was nestled in the inside pocket.

With gentle fingers, she pulled out what appeared to be a small journal. It was a faded maroon color and Villanelle could tell that it had been well used. When she opened it, she discovered that some of the pages were written in English but the majority were in a language she didn’t recognize. The faded pages contained what looked like quotes, some poetry, numbers, and lists. One page towards the front even had a pressed flower taped into it. As she continued raking her eyes over countless entries, towards the end of the book she found a picture and a loose piece of red string marking the very last entry. Villanelle raked her eyes over a very attractive dark-haired woman when she pulled the photograph out. She stared for a long moment before placing it back in its place. 

Now curious about the coat, Villanelle reached back into the same pocket she found the journal in and found only one other item. Small and very faded, it was an old business card. 

“Villanelle!” She jumped and slammed the book shut. Dasha’s voice called to her again from the sewing room. “It’s your turn now!”

Searching through the other pockets of the coat quickly, Villanelle was disappointed to find nothing else within. Placing it back on the rack, Villanelle tucked the business card into the journal and placed it in the back pocket of her shorts.

“Villanelle!” Dasha called out again right before she skipped into the room.

“Dasha!” Villanelle mocked her, placing closed hands on her hips, and shaking her head like the older woman currently was.

“You were so impatient before, now you take your time?" she asked and turned away from Villanelle to hang up Konstantin’s finished pants now that he’d gone back up to rehearsal. Dasha then moved to a costume rack that had Villanelle’s name labeled on the hanger tag. 

“I was only doing what you asked me to.” Villanelle replied with a tilt of her head. She began to untie the front of her blue flowy blouse, pulling it over her head, and setting it on a chair.

Villanelle’s own style was unrivaled. Whether she was wearing a patterned dress that hugged every curve or a tailored suit jacket, her strong silhouette and sense of confidence were always present. The outfits she wore to rehearsal and everywhere in between were both playful and attention seeking; an immediate reflection of herself. However, this mindset almost always got in the way of her costume fittings.

“Here are your undergarments. Make sure you put them on the right way this time.” Dasha teased, handing over some tights and a white shift that Villanelle had worn backwards the first time she tried it on. Dasha then turned to collect the first of Villanelle’s costumes for their final fittings.

The play was a period piece and, while Villanelle respected the classics, she hated the period appropriate costumes. The first dress was hideous to say the least. It was made of heavy fabric that had a morosely green hue to it, the accents were a dark beige lace that settled around the high collar, the cut of the chest, and the ends of the sleeves. Villanelle grimaced as she took it from Dasha. “Do I _really_ have to wear this dress?”

“What’s wrong with it?" she asked, raising her brow.

“Have you seen it?” Villanelle asked incredulously. “The skirt made my ass look all lumpy last time I tried it on.”

“I fixed that. Just put it on!” Dasha said as she reached out and grabbed it back from her to begin undoing the buttons down the back. Villanelle could see that there was now a giant bow of the same dark beige over the lower back half of the dress, which made it look even uglier than it had before. “I think it’s charming. It’s one of the nicer vintage pieces we have.” Dasha continued as she lovingly ran her finger over the lace. She held the dress out expectantly.

Villanelle hesitated as she went to step in, she closed her eyes in protest and grimaced, slowly willing herself to step in and slide her arms into the sleeves. She groaned when Dasha began to button up the back. “Remind me why I’m doing this show, again?”

“Working on the West End and a generous paycheck should be good reason enough.” Dasha scolded.

“No money is worth this humiliation..." she sulked under her breath and Dasha gave her a light slap on the shoulder. “Ow!” Villanelle exclaimed dramatically and pouted. “That hurt.” 

“Huh! I’m sure it did.” Dasha turned her around and began to adjust the dress. “Besides, what do I always say? Hm? Chto-to vsegda luchshe—"

“—chem nichego!” Villanelle said in tandem with her. Something was always better than nothing. “I know, Dasha.” She rolled her eyes and her shoulders drooped.

“Good. Now, stand up straight!" Dasha ordered.

The rest of Villanelle’s final costume fitting went smoothly. She’d actually favored her other costumes and in a matter of a half hour, every costume had the Dasha seal of approval.

“Is that really it?” Villanelle asked, looking in the mirror one last time.

“That was the last one!” Dasha said ceremoniously as she unstrapped the tomato shaped pin cushion fashioned around her wrist. Villanelle undressed in record time.

“Villanelle, we need you upst---Oh, god! Sorry!” The production’s assistant stage manager called as she walked in and found Villanelle half-naked with her shift slung over her arm. “I always forget to knock!” Nadia covered her eyes and turned away, looking at her binder instead.

“Come on, Nadia.” Villanelle sighed as she crossed the room in confident strides. She picked up her own clothing. “You act like you haven’t seen me naked before.” She looked over and winked at Dasha who rolled her eyes in response.

“Right.” Nadia shifted uncomfortably and tucked her binder under her arm, looking at Dasha and then Villanelle. “We need you upstairs. We’re going to block curtain call, now.”

“Sounds good. Are you going to wait for me?” Villanelle taunted as she leaned over to pull on her shorts slowly, her lace panties leaving little to the imagination. 

“She’ll be right up, Nadia.” Dasha offered and Nadia, relieved and blushing furiously, immediately walked back through the door and up the stairs. “Why don’t you ever behave?” The seamstress scolded.

“What?” Villanelle asked, now tying the front of her blouse. “We had sex before the show even started. It’s not my fault that they hired me and now she can’t control herself!" she offered, pulling on her ankle boots. Dasha simply laughed and shooed her out of the costume shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Chto-to vsegda luchshe chem nichego!" - Something is always better than nothing! (My apologies for the Russian.)
> 
> If anyone is curious here is the reference for the ['My Darling Eve' Photograph.](https://www.suffragettecinema.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/sandra.jpg) It is one of my favorite Sandra Oh photographs. I remember when I first saw it, I was so enamored and couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! This is my first ever AU so be gentle with me! 
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr: allsoulsnight if you'd like to say hi.


	2. Glowing Reviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raymond is the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of this chapter is a little nsfw. Just a little.

Nadia was in her bed and Villanelle wasn’t surprised. She never had a problem seducing someone, or someones if the mood struck her, into her bed. However, Nadia was in her bed for the second time and she suddenly wished that she hadn’t gone to the opening night party and had one too many drinks. Villanelle found herself growing disinterested with her head between Nadia’s thighs and her buzz wearing off. She wasn’t even listening to the sighing underneath her. Honestly, it was borderline mean. Every lover was the same to Villanelle: confident in the chase but once they were stripped bare, Villanelle played them like puppets on a string. They would take and attempt to give back, but no one ever challenged her. They all felt too easy, too simple.

“Stop! Ahh… Too much!” Nadia cried out. Villanelle had barreled her through her first orgasm skillfully and hadn’t stopped. The vise grip Villanelle held on her hips, successfully anchoring her down on the bed, was making it hard to push Villanelle’s tongue away from her sex. Overstimulated, Nadia pulled on her hair a little too hard.

Well! That’s promising! Villanelle looked up from between her legs with a dark smile which faded as soon as Nadia opened her mouth again. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The apology smothered Villanelle like a bucket of ice water. They always apologized for being rough. Typical. She removed her fingers from Nadia and wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was…amazing!” Nadia said catching her breath, she pulled the sheets over her naked body. Villanelle allowed Nadia to pull her into a kiss that she did not reciprocate. A hand snaked down into Villanelle’s underwear to tease but she grabbed it and pulled it away. Nadia looked up, surprised. “You don’t want me to…?”

“No, I’m fine.” She released Nadia’s wrist, stood, and walked to the bathroom.

Nadia sighed happily and settled into the luxuriously soft sheets of Villanelle’s bed and turned her head away from the light that clicked on in the bathroom. After a moment, Nadia eyed a small book on the bedside table with a picture on top of it. Curious, Nadia reached over and grabbed the photograph to look at it. “Villanelle?”

“Hmm?” Nadia heard from the bathroom over the sound of the running tap.

“Who is in this photograph?" she asked innocently.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to touch things that aren’t yours?” Villanelle asked, her voice cold as she walked back into the room.

“Well, yes. But I was just—”

Villanelle snatched the photograph out of her hands and tucked it and the journal into the drawer. “It’s late." she said as she picked up Nadia’s shirt and placed it on her lap. “I think you should go.”

“Oh! I thought--”

“I prefer sleeping alone.” 

Even after Nadia had left, Villanelle couldn’t sleep. She tossed about and checked her phone again for the third time since Nadia left. 3:57am. Sighing deeply and sitting up, she ran a hand over her eyes and into her hair. 

_ The Three Sisters _ had opened to a full house and a standing ovation, but the reviews wouldn’t be released until the morning, some three hours from now. Villanelle never cared enough about what the critics had to say for it to break her confidence, but with Raymond’s inconsistent direction on this show, the cracks in her foundation were beginning to show. She really wished Raymond was a better director. He was a complete imbecile who didn’t understand the material and how to properly handle a position of power without abusing it. It was a wonder how he was hired in the first place. The least he could’ve had was the ability to trust a trained actor to do their work, but no! Raymond would never see past his own ego for even that. Dasha’s words of encouragement were of little help now to still her nerves. She needed a distraction.

Drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, Villanelle clicked on the lamp resting on the bedside table and procured the journal from its hiding place. She pulled the picture out and looked at it again, a longing immediately filled her chest. The woman’s beauty was unrivaled. Chin resting on the palms of her hands, the woman’s hair fell in luxurious curls that framed her face, and her smile was subtle but bright. The woman’s gaze was distanced but her eyes shone with a loving reverence. It was obvious she was thinking of something or someone she cared about. Villanelle wished those beautiful eyes would look at her, she wished them to see through her. She looked the photograph over and on the bottom of the photograph’s back she ran her finger over the writing, “My darling Eve.”

Eve.

Who was this woman? Who owned this journal? Villanelle had already read what pages she could understand a million times. The answers to her questions remained shrouded in mystery. She flipped through the book again and the small faded business card fell out onto her lap. That was it! 

Villanelle squinted and held the card up to the light. All she could make out of the weathered text was a number and an area code. It was too late to call, or too early it seemed, as the clock now read 4:15am. Instead she opened her laptop and typed the area code into the browser, hitting enter with a bated breath.

Harlaxton, England. 

* * *

Like clockwork, the reviews from the show came out later that morning and everyone was called to a meeting an hour before the call-time of the actual show. In favor of knowing what the talk would entail, Villanelle read the reviews as she nursed her second large cup of coffee of the afternoon and made her way to the theatre on the public transit. 

The reviews were average it seemed. The overall direction of the show was critiqued, much to Villanelle’s glee, but the stand out was that her performance as Natasha was mentioned in almost all of them and in a very positive light, no less! They praised her realism and spot on characterization of Natasha’s journey in the narrative. A writer for The Telegraph regarded her as having one of the most raw and believable emotional experiences they’d ever seen and that “…it would make both Stanislavski and Chekov proud of West End’s budding actress.” Villanelle found herself rereading that line over and over again, her lips curling into a smile. She revelled in the feeling until the bus stopped a block from the theatre and she disembarked.

Realization came crashing down as soon as she hit the stage door: Raymond wouldn’t be happy.

He wasn’t.

As soon as everyone arrived, Raymond gave an hour-long speech to the entire company about the important responsibilities of every actor, technician, and designer alike. He spoke at length of upholding a singular ‘vision’ and taking the director’s notes to the best of their ability. The master of being specifically general, Raymond tore down and praised something about almost everyone’s performance in a subtle way, leaving some cast members wondering if they were just insulted or admired. Surely Villanelle wasn’t the only one who understood what he was doing. She made eye contact with Konstantin from across the room and furrowed her brow. He simply shook his head in response and ran his fingers over his beard. They, at least, were on the same page about Raymond.

“This production is and will continue to be a success because of almost everyone in this room. I urge you all to bask in the glow of our reviews but some kind advice to remember: the only review that truly matters is mine.” He looked directly at Villanelle with sharp eyes. “You are dismissed.”

As the crowd dispersed and preparation for the show later that evening began, Villanelle went straight to her dressing room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the counter, looking at her reflection in the mirror. It was taking all of her energy to keep her frustration and anger under control. As she took in a deep breath, the door of her dressing room opened suddenly, startling her. In walked Raymond.

“Thank you for knocking.” Villanelle said casually but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

“I think it’s time that you and I had a little chat, hm?" he said, closing the door behind him. Villanelle immediately wanted to remove herself from the situation. She took in the room from her peripheral vision - aside from the small window, Raymond’s body blocked her only exit. Raymond put his hands into the pockets of his rather revolting jacket and took a step into the room.

Villanelle stepped back. “Raymond, I really have to get ready. I don’t have time—”

“You know, I’ve been in this business a lot longer than you have." he began, “I’ve seen hundreds of actresses just like you: fresh out of university, somewhat talented, plain looks...” Raymond looked her up and down. “And I see how, when they land a leading role, they think they aren’t replaceable.” he paused, removing his hands from his pockets. “Do you think this is a game?”

“I don’t know what you mean—” Villanelle tried, her hands balling into fists. Her hands were shaking with an effort to remain calm.

“You disregard everything from rehearsals and go off the grid last night. Our reviews suffered for it. You’re lucky I haven’t fired you, yet.” He paused and cocked his head to the side when Villanelle didn’t respond. “Do you really think you’re smarter than me?" he asked.

“Do you want an honest answer?" she spit back.

He paused for a long moment and then gave a small smile. “That’s what I thought.” Raymond then grabbed her by the chin, hard, and pushed her back against the makeup counter. “You forget who you’re talking to. I could ruin your career in an instant.” Dark glee shined behind his eyes and Villanelle’s blood boiled. “Now do you have anything to say to me?" he asked, tightening his grip on her face.

“You really should ask permission before you touch someone.” Villanelle warned with a cool, even expression; she hadn’t flinched. Raymond’s smile didn’t have time to drop before:  _ Crack! _ Her balled fist struck his nose and blood began to pour out of both nostrils. 

“Jesus!” Raymond cried out, cupping his nose.

Villanelle didn’t give him a moment to recover before she grabbed his shoulders as leverage and brought her knee up between his legs as hard as she could. He screamed out again as he dropped to the floor. Villanelle could hear people running from down the hallway as she reared her leg back and kicked him in the stomach, hard. Diego was the first person to enter her dressing room from the hall, Konstantin was close behind.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Diego yelled. She was just about to kick Raymond for the second time, when Diego surged forward and intervened. Her kick landed hard on his shin instead. Diego yelped and grabbed her wrist roughly in retaliation, but Villanelle pushed him away. It threw him off balance and he tripped over Raymond on the ground. As Diego fell back into the wall behind him, he reached out blindly, pulling down a shelf as he tried to catch himself.

“Villanelle! What’s going on?!” Konstantin asked.

“You cunt!” Raymond cried out, one hand cradling his nose and the other cradling his groin.

Villanelle snarled and went to kick him again, but Konstantin blocked her way. Diego was still struggling to find his footing to stand. 

“No, no, no, no!” Konstantin said quickly, skillfully pulling Villanelle toward the door despite her trying to make her way back to Raymond. “He’s already on the ground.” He practically hauled her over his shoulder to get her out of the room.

Nadia bound down the hallway, took one look at the scene, and clicked on her headset to page their stage manager. Within seconds the small hallway flooded with people asking a million questions, curious to see what was going on.

With the stage manager’s permission, Konstantin whisked Villanelle away to the costume shop downstairs. Statements were taken by the Theater’s management as well as the police in a matter of an hour. Thankfully, they’d kept Raymond and Villanelle separated.

“I would say I’d kill him but there are policemen here.” Dasha gave a deep chuckle. She gently tried to run her fingers over the red marks on her cheeks from Raymond’s grip, Villanelle pulled away from the contact. “We wouldn’t want them sifting through my things and finding all the bodies.”

At that Villanelle smiled weakly and tucked her hands under her legs. It felt good, hitting Raymond, but she was worried about what it meant for her future. She’d hit man in a position of power, yes, but his bruised ego would do more damage. She was surely going to lose her job and get blacklisted from every professional theater in London. Before Villanelle could indulge in any other scenarios, the three heard someone coming down the steps and looked up to see the owner of The Ambassador walk into the room. He was a tall, lanky man who had a greying beard growing on his very pointed jaw and chin. Villanelle hadn’t met him before but knew who he was.

“Hello, Frank.” Dasha said.

“Dasha.” Frank replied cordially as he stepped further into the room. “Villanelle. How are you?” He leaned against the cutting table. Frank was a mousy looking man, who appeared to hold every bit of stress he’d ever felt in his life on his lanky shoulders. The more Villanelle looked at him, the sadder he appeared.

“I’ve been better." she said, looking across the room at Konstantin who gave her an apologetic smile. 

“I must say how disappointed I am that this has happened at The Ambassador’s." he began. Of course, he would take Raymond’s side on this. Villanelle suddenly wanted to scream. “This theater has always been a place that I’ve had the utmost pride in. We provide our patrons with exceptional live performances but more importantly, this is a safe space for our cast and crew to hone their individual talents to provide that service.” Frank sounded rehearsed; Villanelle figured that he’d prepped himself before he came down the stairs. “However, the theater has a zero-tolerance policy to violence of any kind within its walls, regardless of the circumstances.” Here it was, she was going to get fired. “It is because of that policy that Raymond has been fired from the show, effective immediately.”

“You fired Raymond?” Villanelle asked, her eyes immediately snapping back to Frank’s face.

“I would offer up my sincerest apologies to you, Villanelle, as your employment had been in question as well." He adjusted his glasses. “After speaking with the police and with Raymond, I have since changed my mind." he paused and continued. “You were not the first person that Raymond had an altercation with, however, you are the only one who…” He cleared his throat, looking for the proper way to go about saying fought back. “Brought it to our attention.”

“So, I’m not fired?” Villanelle asked, trying to understand what Frank was getting at.

“No, you are not fired." he replied. “But I am temporarily suspending you from the run of the show." Frank said nervously. Villanelle went to protest but he raised his hand, “This is only precautionary so that you may take some time to recover from the events of this evening and so that we may control what press may come of this.” he quickly added. Frank must have been scared that Villanelle might lash out at him, judging by the way his hands return to where they had been clasped strategically at the front of his pants. “You will be paid as an understudy during your absence and the theater will reach out when it is appropriate for you to return to the venue.”

It was Dasha who spoke up as Villanelle processed everything Frank said. “Well I think that is a very generous offer but surely, Frank, she should be paid her normal rate during her absence. After all, she’s one of the names on the marquee.”

Frank sighed and nodded in agreeance. “Well, I suppose you’re right.” He looked at Villanelle again, “Are there any questions you might have for me?”

“I have only two." she replied, standing up from where she sat. “How long do you think you’ll have me suspended?”

“Oh, I don’t really have a way of knowing that—”

“Just an idea, for now.”

“I-uh, I’m going to give it four weeks to start and then reassess." he replied slowly, watching Villanelle nod her head in understanding. “The understudy will go on in your role in the interim and I will accompany you to collect anything you’ll need from your dressing room. I will make sure that you get home safely.” He shifted uneasily as Villanelle stood. “Your second question?”

Villanelle stopped and looked at Frank’s neck. He gulped, she was enjoying how nervous she made him. “Is that tie attached to a clip?”

The question took Frank by surprise, but he immediately looked down at it and smiled. “Umm, yes! My mother bought it for me. I always have a hard time…” When Villanelle and Dasha both raised their eyebrows in judgement, he slowed, “...tying them.”

“Hmm.” Was all Villanelle said as she walked toward the stairs with Dasha close behind.

Before she left the theater, Konstantin pulled her aside and gave his number to Villanelle. “Call me if you want. I’ll let you know anything I hear.”

“Thank you, Konstantin.”

“It won’t be the same without you around. Have you any idea what you are going to do for four weeks?" he asked.

Villanelle shook her head, no. Then she got an idea. “You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing the English countryside, actually.”

Dasha stepped forward and hugged Villanelle. “If that’s what you want to do, then go! Explore!” The only thing she wouldn’t miss would be the smell of the cigarettes Dasha smoked. “You did the right thing, monkey." she whispered so only she could hear.

Villanelle nodded and turned to leave. “You were right by the way, about Raymond.” Villanelle stopped at the stage door and held up a pinky, “It was tiny.” As Dasha erupted in a fit of laughter, Villanelle smiled and left the theater. Perhaps a paid break was exactly what she needed and she’d found the perfect place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who works in the Entertainment Industry, I have worked with some directors like Raymond. One has never gone as far as he did in this chapter but oh, man... What did you think? 
> 
> As always, find me on Tumblr: allsoulsnight if you'd like to say hi.


	3. Harlaxton, England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Harlaxton is a real place. No, I've never been (but my close friend has!) As writers do, I've taken some liberties with the town. Shhhh!

Harlaxton was small. Smaller than Villanelle thought it would be and she’d expected it to be small. She’d researched its only landmark, Harlaxton Manor, which was well known for hosting college students studying abroad. It was large, historic, and ornate. Villanelle would never have imagined it nestled in the middle of a town like this. As the cab drove through what appeared to be the downtown, she saw little shops lining the street and a handful of restaurants and pubs. If she’d blinked, she might have missed it in its entirety. After a minute more, the cab stopped in front of a two story house at the end of a gravel pathway. Villanelle stepped out, grabbed her suitcase from the trunk, and gave the driver a small nod of appreciation; she’d paid him upfront not to talk to her during the drive.

As the cab pulled away, Villanelle swung her backpack over her shoulder and looked up at the building before her. It was a quaint but spacious house, old in style, with a tangle of vines growing up the side of it. Walking up to the door, Villanelle knocked and waited.

An older woman opened the door and greeted Villanelle warmly. “Good afternoon, love! How can I help you?” Her English accent was a light, rural sounding one. 

“Hello.” Villanelle smiled, looking up at the number on the front of the house. “I believe I booked a room on Airbnb here for a few nights." she fished for her phone in the pocket of her coat.

“You must be Miss Astankovski. Come in, come in!” The woman turned and walked across the room to an ornate wooden desk that held an ancient looking desktop. Waking the screen up, she furrowed her brow as she clicked around for the website confirmation.

“It’s Astankova, actually. But, yes. Villanelle Astankova.” Villanelle prepared for possible recognition as she normally did when giving her name, but nothing came. No one probably would recognize her in the middle of nowhere—she couldn’t decide if she hated or loved the idea. For now, Villanelle was happy to be on the fence.

The woman apologetically looked up and pulled off her glasses. “I’m so sorry, my eyesight is not what it used to be.” She gave a small breathy chuckle and returned to squinting at the computer. “Ah, there you are! You’re here for three nights, is that right?”

“Yes. Three nights.” Villanelle replied. She began looking around the room, taking in the rustic décor. It was charming but vastly different than the places she was used to. It was kind of nice.

“You’re the only one who has booked in the last three months!” The woman said as she grabbed a few papers off the printer. After the formalities of confirming her information were out of the way, she reached into the drawer of the desk and pulled out a key ring with a maroon tassel attached. Villanelle stepped forward and took it with a smile. “Fancy a cuppa before I give you a tour?”

“Do you have any cake?” Villanelle asked directly. The trip was rather long.

“I do!” She immediately hobbled off down a hallway and into what Villanelle assumed was the kitchen judging by the various clinks of dishware being pulled from what she assumed were cabinets. “It’s lemon drizzle. Is that alright?” The woman called over her shoulder, unaware that she had followed.

“That’s actually my favorite!” Villanelle smirked.

“Oh!” It was a light startle when she turned to see Villanelle standing in the doorway. The woman seemed overexcited to have someone new in her house and a bit scatterbrained as a result. “Perfect!" she said as she hurried around the kitchen. She sloshed water as she turned off the tap and started the percolator for the tea.

“I didn’t catch your name.” Villanelle asked as she studied some black and white photographs hanging in the hallway. One held a line of women in swimming suits, vintage, and another, the old woman blowing out candles on a cake. Villanelle’s favorite so far was one of a smug child holding a chicken above her head.

“Oh bollocks!” The woman scolded herself. Putting a hand to her forehead and turning to Villanelle, she gave another apologetic smile and shake of her head. “I’m always forgetting something! Bertha Krueger but please call me Bertie. Everyone does.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I must say, I love your accent. Did you travel here from Russia?”

“No.” Villanelle usually didn’t converse this much with strangers, but Bertie’s warm nature put her at ease. There were certain questions that Villanelle hadn’t prepared answers for. “That is where I grew up. I live in London now.” Bertie placed a slice of cake down in front of Villanelle and came back with tea not a moment later. 

“What do you do for a living? I assumed when you booked you were a student.”

There it was. _I’m a well-known actress who almost got fired because she punched her director in the face_. She thought for a second, “I work for a theater company, nothing too exciting.”

“Oh! That reminds me of the West End. I haven’t been there in ages!” Bertie said as she sipped her tea. “I used to love visiting London when my husband and I were younger. I’m sure it’s changed loads since then.” Bertie looked off at the hallway of photographs and she sighed, her eyes grew glassy and distant for a moment. 

Villanelle just smiled and nodded as she devoured the cake which was probably the most delicious lemon drizzle she’d ever had. “This is fantastic." she said with her mouth full.

“Thank you!” Bertie said with a proud smile. “It’s an old family recipe.” Villanelle finished the cake and the woman gave a small chuckle. “So, what brings you to Harlaxton?”

There it was again. “I just needed a small vacation.” Villanelle said. She instinctively flexed her hand which was still a little sore.

“Surely you could have chosen somewhere more luxurious! I would have chosen Brighton myself.” Bertie teased. 

“I like the quiet.” 

“Well there is plenty of that here in Harlaxton!” She stood and cleared the table, denying assistance from Villanelle. “Either way, I’m happy to have you here! Come, I’ll show you to your room and let you settle in!” They walked out of the kitchen and through a back door at the end of the long hallway. The garden Bertie led them into was gorgeous. All types of plants grew in sections marked off by a stone pathway. In the center of it was a fountain inset to the ground with a few streams of water coming from bronze fish on the sides.

“Wow!” Villanelle said as she followed the woman through the garden. They were heading towards a building at the back left of the property.

“The garden was a gift from a man in town after the passing of my husband a few years ago.” Bertie said sadly. “Everyday I miss him more and more.”

Villanelle was quiet. Loss was no stranger to her, either, but she didn’t get a garden when her Father died. Instead, she got an alcoholic mother who shoved a nice sum of money her way every month as an apology for removing herself from her life, not to mention an empty space in her heart that she didn’t know how to fill. Villanelle didn’t want to talk about grief, it was always too much. “Do you take care of all of these plants yourself?" she asked, running her fingers over the top of a white rose she passed.

“Heavens no! I’m too old for that.” Bertie turned to smile earnestly at Villanelle. “People from the local greenhouse shop pop by to check up on it here and there. The owner is really thoughtful that way. But I still do some work on it every week, though. Just because I can.” She pointed up at the building they were now standing in front of. “This is it! Now where did I put the key?” Villanelle took a step forward and held out the key to her as she shoved her hands in the pockets of the cardigan she was wearing. “Oh!” She took it. “I swear I’d lose my head if it weren’t screwed on!” She unlocked the door with airy laugh and handed the key back to Villanelle.

When Bertie opened the door, Villanelle’s eyes went wide. The photographs on the website did not do it justice. The whole room had been modernized within the confines of its structure, which appeared to be an old coach house or barn of sorts. It was a small two stories with a spiral staircase leading up to where the bed and bathroom were. White walls contrasted with the deep mahogany rafters and support beams that intermittently lined the ceiling. The appliances were sleek metal, decorations minimal, and in comparison to Bertie’s house, it felt extremely out of place.

“It’s just your bog-standard room, really. There is a small kitchen with an icebox here. Bed and washroom are upstairs. You’ll have to wash clothing over at the main house if you need though, I’m afraid.” Bertie walked around, adjusting one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. “My nephew used to live here and my husband fixed it up. He did a great job, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he did!” Villanelle set her bag down on the floor next to her suitcase and looked around.

“It was his idea to rent out the room online to the occasional parent of the students staying at the Manor if they needed a visit." she said, looking around and the excitement in her eyes wavered for only a moment. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind but I stocked up the kitchen a little for you just in case.”

Villanelle perked up and smiled at that. “Thank you.” Bertie was easily shaping up to be the most accommodating host Villanelle had ever met.

“I think that’s it! So,” She patted Villanelle on the shoulder and gave her a smile. “I’ll leave you to it!” When she got to the door, she stopped and swiveled. “Oh! If you hear scratching around the door at night, that’s just Samuel, the neighbor’s cat. He’s a bit dim but he means well.” Bertie made her way out of the door. “If you need anything at all, you know where to find me!”

A moment later, Villanelle was alone. 

It didn’t take long for her to settle into the small apartment. She took her suitcase upstairs and hung her clothes up in the closet where a few flannel button downs still hung. She moved her toiletries to the bathroom gawking at the size of the glass shower in the corner of the room. It was flanked by mosaic-like starry blue tiling on the wall which effortlessly matched the stainless-steel fixtures. She could get used to this space.

_Buzz!_

Her phone vibrated on the hard countertop next to the kitchen sink as she put her toothbrush in the holder. It hadn’t taken long for the drama back at the theater to spread. Over the course of the weekend she’d received floods of texts. Some were from people genuinely checking in, but most were ‘friends’ seeking any gossip they could find directly from the source. Five texts were from Nadia. Villanelle sighed and muted her message notifications. This would be a long vacation if that’s all she had to deal with.

Walking back to the bedroom, she pulled the last few items out of her suitcase and then her bag, one of which was the journal. She placed it on the bedside table and thought for a moment about how best to go about returning it now that she was here. Well, at least she hoped it was the right place. Villanelle pulled out the card and sat on the edge of the bed as she dialed the number. She held her breath.

“Henry’s Garden Supply, this is Elena speaking.”

Villanelle froze and her breath caught in her throat. What was she calling to ask exactly? Immediately, she realized how strange her plan was. She could have just called the number from London, snooped around online more, and sent the journal back by post like a normal person. No, instead she trekked across the country and just hoped she’d run into the woman from the picture. 

“Hello?” Elena asked again in the silence.

“Oh, uh… Yes!” Villanelle cleared her throat, slipping into a very posh French accent which sounded far too forced. “Bonjour! I was just calling to see what your hours were?”

“We’re open Monday through Friday, 8 to 5. Been like that for years.”

“Ah, I see. And you’re still located…" she trailed off, hoping Elena would bite. She could have just googled this information, like a normal person. But of course, typical Villanelle.

“Down the street from the pharmacy.” Elena replied plainly. She either must be extremely bored or she must get stupid questions like this a lot.

“In Grantham? Harlaxton specifically.” Villanelle kicked herself for asking it. She knew she didn’t sound convincing enough to justify questions like this.

“Yes, of course Harlaxton. Where else?” Elena sounded suspicious. “Listen, if this is a prank call again. Knock it off!”

Villanelle thought quickly on her feet and gave a hideously annoying fit of laughter and ended the call. She covered her eyes with her hand and sighed. Well at least she had the information she needed. Looking at her phone she checked the time: 4:45pm. She would have to wait for tomorrow to check out Henry’s Garden Supply. Defeated, she poked around the apartment for about an hour before she donned her floral jacket from earlier and decided to explore the garden a little further.

Villanelle walked along the pathways between trees and rose bushes, taking in the flowers and the small adornments placed around the garden. She came across a little carved stone in one of the planters. She bent down and brushed off a little dirt from its surface:

_"We walk by faith, not by sight."_

As she mused over the meaning, the greenhouse door opened behind her, startling Villanelle. 

“Oh, hello.” A voice said.

When she turned to the owner of the voice, all words failed. There stood the woman from the photograph.

Eve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry about the cliff hanger. Feel free to yell at me in the comments! I dare you!
> 
> Bertha 'Bertie' is the woman from the garden hose kill in canon, just in case you were wondering. I've toned down her crying a bit as you can tell. 
> 
> Find me on Tumbr: allsoulsnight or even on Twitter: allsouls_night!


	4. Henry's Garden Supply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Day #3 of Killing Eve Week! This whole AU is soft so why not celebrate with an extremely early chapter?

_“Oh, hello.” A voice said. When she turned sharply, all words failed. There stood the woman from the photograph. Eve._

Villanelle took in every detail of her, scared that this was an illusion and if she wasn’t careful it might fade away at any moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Eve’s polite smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked a little older than in the picture, but it was nice. Age was becoming on her. 

"Are you alright?" Eve asked gently. Villanelle still hadn't said a word. 

Just then, Bertie came hobbling out of the greenhouse with a delightful gasp after Eve. “Oh, Eve! There she is! This is my guest for the next few days.” Bertie said, directing her attention to Villanelle now. “And this is the woman responsible for maintaining this lovely garden! Eve runs the best garden supply in town.” The older woman gently grabbed and pulled on Eve’s arm as she praised her.

“It’s the only garden supply in town, Bertie.” Eve’s smile did reach her eyes this time as she shook her head. Villanelle watched as her hair bounced with the movement. _She has amazing hair…_

“You did a wonderful job.” Villanelle offered finally, peeling her eyes off Eve to look around, only to have them lock back on her face. 

“Thank you.” Eve then turned to Bertie. “I’m planning on having Hugo pop by next week to plant some lilies we just got in.” 

“How splendid!” Bertie then took hold of the conversation and both women as she pointed towards the right side of the garden. “I think they should go over here. I’m afraid my tulips aren’t looking well enough to keep anymore.” She began giving a rundown of what she believed she’d overwatered, Villanelle only tuned back in when Eve confirmed that Bertie had indeed flooded the tulip bed.

“Will you stay for dinner soon?” Bertie asked Eve. 

“Not tonight, unfortunately.” Eve said as she adjusted her purse over her shoulder. “But, I’ll take a rain check. Promise!” 

“I’ll hold you to it, dear!” Bertie gave a gentle pat to Eve’s shoulder and began walking her back towards the main house.

“It was nice to meet you, Eve." Villanelle offered as they turned. Her name lay heavy in the air. Eve was real, tangible, and breathing in front of her. She'd never said her name out loud before and yet it felt at home on her tongue already. 

“You too.” Eve replied politely. Obviously, this exchange was far more important to Villanelle than it was to Eve. 

Once again, Bertie spoke up, “You know, if you have time in town you should really go see the garden shop!”

“Where is it?” Villanelle knew the answer but, still.

“Just past the pharmacy downtown.” Bertie replied for Eve. 

“It’s just a garden supply. It’s really nothing special--” Eve started but was cut off by a swat on her arm from Bertie.

“Oh, pish posh!” Bertie gave Villanelle a disapproving face at Eve’s modesty. “Enjoy exploring the garden, dear.” The old woman smiled warmly at Villanelle and then turned to Eve again. “Now since you can’t stay for dinner, I’m sending you home with some of the lemon drizzle cake I made. I insist!” Bertie called out over her shoulder. Eve smiled at Villanelle again, gave a small wave and followed Bertie towards the main house. 

Villanelle watched every step Eve took away from her with rapt attention. When the pair disappeared into the house, Villanelle was left alone with a million more questions than before and a burning desire to see Eve again. 

* * *

Toss. Turn. Check time. Repeat. It was now the middle of the night and Villanelle’s mind hadn’t stopped. All she could think about was Eve.

Eve who was...American, apparently? She’d not expected that. Eve, who was even more beautiful than her photograph. Eve, who was quickly consuming her thoughts. All Villanelle had wanted out of her short trip to Harlaxton was to learn more about the journal and hopefully return it to its owner but instead, here was this beautiful distraction. Well Eve _was_ in the journal so technically it wasn’t too far off of her original plan… 

Villanelle was certain, though: she needed to see Eve again. 

So her plan for the day was simple: dress to the nines, walk into the garden supply, find and speak to Eve, and… That’s as far as she got. But a little improvisation never hurt anyone, she was an actress after all. In fact it was always a good idea to practice often and if that meant talking to Eve, she would gladly suffer for her craft. 

Villanelle tried not to count the minutes that passed until the shop opened but she ended up doing it anyway. When morning came around she waited until the garden supply had officially been open for an hour before taking one final look at herself in the mirror, “Wow, beautiful,” before heading out.

“Good morning!” Bertie called from the door of the greenhouse. She was tangled in a garishly green watering hose that had coiled precariously around her neck and abdomen. It had knocked her gardening hat and apron askew. 

“Good morning.” Villanelle waved back as she quickly made her way across the garden towards her to assist. 

“Thank you, dear. I hate this old hose! I’m surprised I haven’t accidentally strangled myself with it yet!” Bertie gave a bright laugh. “How did you sleep?” 

“Really well, thank you.” Villanelle said, giving her an appreciative smile. “I’m enjoying my time here.”

“I’m chuffed to bits to hear that!” Bertie said fondly, shoving her hands in the pocket of her apron. “You actually just caught me on my way out. I need to run to the garden supply for a new set of pruning shears.” She pulled out a set that looked rough for wear from her apron. “I lost them in the garden a while back and I just found them this morning! The spring got rusty. Nearly gave me a heart attack when it popped off!”

The garden shop! My how the planets seemed to align. “Would you like some company?” Villanelle asked.

“I would love nothing more!” Bertie said excitedly. “Just let me grab my trolley!”

Harlaxton was small enough that, while most of the residents owned cars, most just walked where they needed to go. Bertie was no exception to the rule. She was a vision in her wide brimmed hat, pulling along a little foldable shopping cart behind her. As they walked, Bertie waved at everyone she saw, giving Villanelle small tidbits of information about who lived in what house and what she thought of them. Bertie genuinely liked almost everyone. Judging by the warm smiles and waves back it was clear that the people viewed her as a saint.

A few more minutes up the road, Villanelle could see the fading green sign of Henry's Garden Supply. She hadn’t passed it on the drive in to Harlaxton because she certainly would have remembered the massive antique greenhouse. It looked so out of place, yet so perfect.

“Wow!” Villanelle exhaled.

“Just wait until you see inside of the greenhouse!” Bertie said excitedly. “They struck up business with the gardens at the Manor so they expanded it a few years ago.” They walked into the open door of the main building, Bertie was greeted almost immediately. 

“Bertie!!” A young man said as he made his way over. “How are you today, you lovely lady?” he asked before being pulled into a hug by the old woman. he oozed a privileged sort of charm. 

“Hello my dear! How are you?” She rubbed his back and let him go. “Oh, isn’t Hugo the cutest thing on two legs?” Bertie asked Villanelle, tightening her grip on the boy who had given Villanelle a not so subtle once over during the hug.

“So adorable.” Villanelle said with sarcastic, narrow eyes, and a thin smile to boot. Bertie gave his cheek an embarrassing squeeze.

“What can I help you and your new friend out with today, Bertie?” He asked, hoping to be introduced to Villanelle. Bertie, bless her one-track mind, grabbed his arm and immediately went into her pruning shear story. With a wave of Bertie’s hand, they were off, leaving Villanelle to her own devices. When she followed the pair a few paces back, when they exited the main house, Villanelle’s eyes went wide. 

The greenhouse she found herself in was gorgeous. Lined with panes of faded glass and filled to the brim with greenery, the space was something out of a dream. There was an opening in the middle for a courtyard that held the various fountains for sale and she could see that there was another house attached to the back of the greenhouse just out of reach. Villanelle wandered around, looking for Eve with no avail. She wandered around the rows of flowers, settling on a section that held various herbs and spice plants. She caught a scent of something familiar and looked over to find a row of plants in pots of various sizes with long shoots of purple bulbs. Villanelle leaned forward and inhaled the scent deeply.

“Lavender is one of my favorites.”

Villanelle’s head snapped up and looked over to the familiar voice. There Eve was, standing in with a pair of gardening gloves in her hands and an oversize apron over a maroon turtleneck. Her hair, unfortunately, was tied back. 

“It seems I’ve started a trend of startling you. I’m sorry.” Eve said as she walked over to the opposite side of the pallet Villanelle was standing by. “You actually stopped by.”

“I did!” Villanelle had time to prepare for this meeting, so her demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. She was nervous but that was only for her to know.

“You’re brave coming in here with that outfit on.” Eve looked Villanelle up and down. It was true! The pleated satin trousers were a bold yellow and her blouse was white with black polka dots. Her ensemble was perfectly fitting for shopping in London, buying expensive clothing and custom perfumes, but not at all appropriate for a gardening shop littered with soil and puddles. “You look really nice but I’d hate for it to get dirty.”

Villanelle looked down and then back up to Eve. “Bertie needed a new pair of shears, I offered to come with.” She looked back across the greenhouse where Bertie was still talking to Hugo, Eve followed her gaze.

“You don’t strike me as the plant owning type.” Eve teased. 

Villanelle gave a faux gasp and smiled. “I love growing plants.” A lie, the only flowers she ever owned were pre-cut and arranged, taking the form in opening night bouquets. 

“What is your favorite type then?” 

A challenge. Villanelle was elated! “I really love…” Why couldn’t she think of any flowers, they were literally everywhere! “Perennials!” But she’d paused a little too long which caused Eve to smile knowingly and tilt her head in question.

“Do you even know which ones those are?” Eve’s tone was light but inquisitive.

She weighed her answer for a second looking at the sea of flowers all around them, very obviously skimming her eyes over the various bulbs. “Of course, I do. I just really want to plant ones of my own!” Villanelle looked up in faux innocence and shrugged it off. 

“Good save.” Eve gave a small chuckle of disbelief but she smiled nonetheless. 

Villanelle’s stomach fluttered. God, she was beautiful. All Villanelle could bring herself to do was smile back and give a soft yet smooth, “Thank you, Eve.” She savored the name on her tongue, she caught herself glancing down at Eve’s lips and then back to her eyes. 

After a moment, Eve motioned to another pallet towards the front of the greenhouse with an assortment of purple and pink flowers. “We have some that you might like. I’d be happy to show them to-”

“Eve!” Bertie called from a few rows of plants back. “Eve! How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hello, Bertha!” Eve said, waving back.

Bertie weaved through the plants with Hugo still in tow, he was holding a new set of gardening shears for Bertie. “As you can see, my house guest was kind enough to accompany me into town.” Bertie put her hand on Eve’s arm and pointed at Villanelle.

“Yes. How very, very kind of you.” Hugo offered and gave Villanelle another appreciative look.

“Can you believe I broke my shears?” Bertie exclaimed, taking the new pair from Hugo.

“So I’ve heard! Hopefully this new pair will hold up better this time.” Eve said, sparing an amused glance at Villanelle.

“I have no doubt they will! Now I’ll just pay for these and we’ll be on our way!” Bertie turned and marched towards the front, Villanelle saw Eve’s eye catch someone at the front of the greenhouse and her brow furrowed.

“Hugo.” Eve said, her gaze returning but the light had left them. “Hugo, would you be so kind as to assist my friend here with picking out some perennials?”

“Uh… Sure!” Hugo strode over, wiping his dirty hands on his apron and shaking his hair from his forehead. He turned on his characteristic charm. “I most certainly can help with anything you might need, Miss.”

“Nice to see you again. If you’ll excuse me...” Eve said curtly and turned on her heel to walk away, she seemed miles away in thought now. 

Villanelle watched as Eve walked towards the front of the greenhouse. She grimaced to herself before turning back to Hugo, she forced her voice to be light and gentle. “That’s Eve, right?" she asked him.

“Uh, yeah.” Hugo offered, it was a weird question. “She runs the place.”

Of course Villanelle knew who Eve was, however was gratifying to hear other people confirm what she knew to be true. A proverbial ‘pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.’ As they walked slowly across the room, she figured now was a better time than ever to gather information. “Is she married?”

“Kind of?” He offered, looking around to the back where Eve was talking to a tall man with a moustache. “Actually the man she’s talking to is her husband. Niko. Though,” Hugo’s voice lowered though there was no one around, “I heard that they’re separating but I’m not sure.“ Villanelle followed Hugo’s gaze. “It would explain why she’s been so bitchy lately.” He said, leaning against the wooden frame of a pallet holding pots of various sizes. “They probably just need a good shag if you ask me.” 

The thought churned Villanelle’s stomach as she looked at Niko. He was not a wholeheartedly unattractive man; he was kind of in shape but his dumpy haircut and facial hair did absolutely nothing for him. He had a messenger bag over his shoulder and wore an untucked button-down shirt with a green coat overtop. Eve was not hers to claim but something akin to jealousy simmered in her chest nonetheless. “He looks like someone stuck a mustache on some fudge." Villanelle thought out loud. It earned a laugh from Hugo.

“Brutal! ” Hugo laughed again. He stared for a moment and then decided to shoot his shot. “Bertie tells me you’re visiting Harlaxton. Did your boyfriend come with you?”

Villanelle brushed her ponytail over her shoulder and gave Hugo a pointed look. “No. And I don’t actually need any help. Thank you, Hubert." she said plainly, brushing past him.

“It’s Hugo.” He said dejectedly. He side-stepped so that Villanelle was still in front of him. “Are you sure you don’t need any assistance?” Judging by the way he stood, overconfident with his hands on his hips, he viewed her rejection as a challenge. She would have to be blunt.

“You’re cute, but you’re not really my type.”

“Well, what is your type?” Hugo obviously couldn’t tell when someone wasn’t interested.

“Women.” The look on Hugo’s face was priceless. She caught herself looking back to where she last saw Eve. She was gone and so was Niko.

“Ah, I see.” He understood now, but without skipping a beat, “Well if you ever decide to—”

“Again, no thank you.” She knew where that statement was going and she didn’t want to hear it. With one final blink, she walked past him, grabbed the first potted perennial she found, and walked to the counter at the main house to check out. 

“Sorry about Hugo.” The woman at the register said with a roll of her eyes. “He drools over every woman that walks in, especially the pretty ones.”

“I’m used to it.” Villanelle replied, looking down at her name tag which read Elena.

“I’m sure you are! Your outfit is fantastic by the way!” Just then the phone next to the till rang, Elena picked it up. “Henry’s Garden Supply, this is Elena speaking.” Faintly from the receiver, Villanelle could hear shouting and laughter. “I’m sorry you have the wrong number.” With a sigh she hung up the receiver. “God, I hate prank callers. This week has been riddled with them.”

“How unfortunate!” Villanelle held back a smile and searched for her wallet to pay for the plant. “Is there anything to do in this town? I’m only just passing through.”

After exchanging the ten-pound note and giving her change back, Elena responded. “There are a few pubs in town but that’s about it. If you want excitement, you’ll have better luck in Grantham. They have a few clubs.” She pushed the potted plant back to Villanelle. “Thank you for your business! Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thank you.” Villanelle shook her head and took one last look around the shop for Eve. She only found Bertie walking back to her with her trolley in tow.

“Have a good day, Elena!” She cheerily called. “Say hello to your sister, for me, will you?”

“Will do, Bertie! See you soon!” Elena replied politely and waved.

“Ready, Villanelle?” 

The trip back to the loft was a swift one, Bertie only stopping to talk to one person along the way. After saying goodbye, and declining offers for tea and cake, Villanelle made her way back to the loft. She sat the plant on the small kitchen table and took a good look at her purchase. 

Having grown in a small terracotta pot, the plant was only slightly bigger than her hand. The tiny flowers were purple and pink in color that faded beautifully to white in the center. The sparse green leaves that flanked the flowers on the stem were fuzzy, much like the skin of a peach. She ran a finger over the petals of the flowers and admired the simple beauty of it all. But a thought suddenly crept in: How in the hell was she supposed to take care of it? Turning the pot around to see if there was some indication of what kind of perennial she had, there was no label or instructions to be found.

 _Why don’t these things come with a manual?_ She thought to herself. Villanelle felt silly typing ‘how to take care of plants’ into Google but she did it anyway. Several articles popped up and she clicked on one with pictures that looked promising. She skimmed the page, learning about indoor and outdoor plants alike but she had no idea what kind it was. _It was in a greenhouse before, so… Indoor? Or does that technically count as outdoor? Can it be both?_ The articles all stressed the importance of watering the plant to keep the soil moist.

Villanelle figured that was a good place to start. She went to the kitchen and returned with a cup of water from the tap and got eye level with the plant. Slowly she poured some water onto the soil at the base of the stems and stopped. The soil instantly absorbed the water which Villanelle took as a good sign. This wasn’t so hard after all. Tipping the rest of the water from the cup into the plant, she put the cup down, and picked up the pot. The soil hadn’t absorbed all of the water as quickly this time, and as she looked over the top of the plant, water began seeping from the bottom of the pot.

Villanelle cursed. Looking at the bottom of the pot, she hadn’t realized that there were tiny holes drilled in the bottom. She tried to cup her hand under to control the leak, but murky water kept dripping onto the table and onto the floor. She scanned the room for a towel or something to help but she panicked and instead turned on her heel and took the plant outside where it continued to drip in the grass. Thankfully the water hadn’t got on her clothing, but her hands were grimy from the soil. She unceremoniously placed the pot on the ground next to the door and went back inside to wash her hands. She’d leave it outside for a while. Maybe it would reset itself. 

Owning a plant was not as fun as she’d expected it would be. At least she actually talked to Eve today, that was surely something to celebrate.

A yawn suddenly found its way to the surface and Villanelle realized that her sleepless night was starting to catch up with her. Following the spiral staircase up to the bedroom, she laid down on the bed and absentmindedly reached for the journal. 

She wondered, could this belong to Niko? He didn’t look like the type to write in… She hadn’t figured it out: Chinese? Mandarin? Every attempt Villanelle had made to figure out the language was fruitless. She began flipping through it’s pages again. 

Villanelle stopped when she came across the page where a flower had been pressed and taped. She immediately recognized it now. 

It was a stem of lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter alludes to a super slow burn but I promise these two won't be strangers for much longer (next chapter will fix that, promise!) Villanelle's new flower child is a purple/pink Phlox Perennial if you were curious, just don't tell her. Shh!!
> 
> Tell me your thoughts so far! Anyone curious about the journal yet?
> 
> Shout out to all of the artists participating in KE Week as well as the readers out there. You all are absolutely wonderful! And thank you for reading!
> 
> As always find me on Tumbr: allsoulsnight or even on Twitter: allsouls_night if you would like.


	5. Happy Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned three things from this chapter: I miss Bill, I hate writing scenes at bars, and my opinion on Geraldine still wavers.

The nap helped but later that evening, Villanelle became bored. She could only go over the interaction with Eve so many times before it began to feel borderline obsessive.

In an effort to occupy herself, she’d swiped through her Instagram and even dared to check Twitter for some kind of news on the theater but she quickly grew tired of seeing her own face next to Raymond’s. Curious, she’d even pulled open the dating app she had for fun. Swiping through the profiles she found only a few American college students and an older couple looking for some added fun before her options ran out. 

Villanelle needed a distraction, so she decided to call Konstantin. If the show was running on time back in London, he would be in the middle of intermission.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?” 

“Is this Konstantin Vasiliev?” Villanelle replied, adopting a very convincing received pronunciation.

“Yes… Who is this?” Her number hadn’t been saved on his phone apparently.

“This is Natalie from the London Juvenile Corrections Facility. I’m calling because your daughter, Irina, has just been taken into custody.”

“What?! What for?”

“Shoplifting, sir, about an hour ago.” She bit back a laugh when he cursed in Russian on the other end of the line. “Unfortunately that wasn’t the only charge.”

“Wh-- There’s m—”

“She’s also been accused of being the most annoying little shit.” Villanelle slipped back into her normal Russian dialect on the last bit.

“What—VILLANELLE!” Konstantin shouted into the phone. She erupted into a fit of laughter.

“I got you!”

“No you didn’t!”

“A little bit! I did! Admit it!" When Konstantin exhaled deeply on the other end of the line, she gloated, satisfied with herself. “I got you!” 

“You were about to give me a heart attack.” He said with a deep breath. “Irina would be so stupid!” He admitted with an ashamed chuckle. 

“You’re allowed to say I’m your favorite, you know.” Villanelle said. “I won’t tell her.”

“You’re not my daughter.” He responded with a small chuckle. 

“You’re also allowed to say you miss me.” 

“It’s been a few days.” Konstantin said. “How can I miss you if you’ve barely been gone?” 

She ignored him. “How is the understudy? Is she terrible?” Villanelle bit her lip. “She’s terrible, isn’t she?”

Konstantin didn’t answer.

“Come on, Konstantin! Make me feel better!" she whined.

“She’s not bad but you’re definitely better.” That earned a huff from Villanelle. It wasn’t the compliment she wanted to hear. “But it’s not the same without you. The audience, they weren't happy when they heard you wouldn’t be in the show for a while. We had some upset girls at the stage door last night.”

“Hmm…” Villanelle mused over the sight, that brought her a little joy. She loved her very small handful of devoted fans. 

“I should tell you, Raymond’s been talking around town. No one believes him, though. Are you doing alright?” Konstantin asked.

“I don’t understand the question.” Villanelle replied in a nonchalant tone. 

Konstantin knew not to press so he changed the subject. “Where did you end up running off to?” 

“I’m in Brighton." she lied. “It’s nice here. Very busy, lots of shopping...” Villanelle could hear talking in the background of Konstantin’s line.

“Intermission is almost over.” He said. “I have to go but promise me you’ll be safe on your own.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, I’ll be fine." she said. 

“You better.” Konstantin warned softly. 

She broke the sweet with a sing song, “Goodbye, Konstantin!” Perhaps she would miss him a little bit. 

“Goodbye, Villanelle.” Then the line went dead. 

Villanelle took note of the tension in her shoulders. Even the thought of Raymond made her blood boil still. Well, the distraction didn’t help either. 

A drink, perhaps, is what she needed and she knew of two pubs downtown thanks to Elena. 

Donning a new outfit from the one she wore earlier that day, Villanelle grabbed the key to the apartment, tucked the journal into the spacious pocket of her overcoat, and went on her way, 

The pubs weren’t hard to find. The first one that Villanelle came across was loud. It sounded as if there was a live band playing inside and there were a few scraggly looking men who sat outside with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. One catcalled her as she walked past and she shot daggers his way, her eyes gleaming dangerous in the low light. Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist as she kept walking down the sidewalk. She ignored the tenderness still present on her cheek and the memory of Raymond’s smug face.

Thankfully the other bar, Carolyn’s, looked more promising when she walked up. From what she could see of the inside, the walls were a chic grey and the wooden bar had accents of black and white behind it. Rows of bottles sat on LED lighted platforms and there were black and white photographs of architecture on the walls. She opened the door and a bell rang above her as she took in the patrons of the bar. A group of women drinking wine sat in the booth closest to the door, they appeared to be talking about a book placed in the middle of the table, two men sat at the edge of the bar and muttered back and forth in hushed tones, and then at the very end of the bar where the bartender stood cleaning glasses, sat Eve. She was staring ahead, lost in thought.

Villanelle had a mind to turn around and walk out then and there, but the option was taken away from her when the young woman behind the bar gave her a warm greeting and began to wipe her wet hands off on a towel. It brought Eve out of her reverie and she blinked up to follow the bartender’s gaze. Villanelle’s stomach flipped when Eve recognized her. Guess there was no turning back now.

“Good evening! What can I get you?” The bartender cheerily asked as she stepped forward to the bar just several seats away from Eve. She was a younger looking woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, she looked like the type of woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. Villanelle read her name scrawled out on the chalkboard behind her head: Geraldine.

“I’ll have a French 75, please.” 

“Oo, swanky! I’ll have to pop a bottle open.” The woman looked eager as she turned to make the drink, Villanelle figured that locals might not order anything with champagne here often.

Villanelle looked over at Eve who was still staring and gave her a charming smile. “Hi, Eve.”

“Are you following me?” Eve joked and took her drink in hand. She took a sip and set it back down. Villanelle watched every move.

“A happy accident, I promise.” Villanelle said as she put her hands on the back of a chair and tipped it back a little. “The pub down the street didn’t appeal to me.”

“That place is only good for karaoke once a month.” Her voice was lower and more relaxed, but her shoulders slumped in a way that read as though she was suppressing sadness. “I just realized, I don’t know your name.” Eve asked, turning her head.

“Would you like to guess?”

This made Eve chuckle. “I don’t think you’d want me to. The only two Russian names I knew growing up were Boris and Natasha.” Villanelle made a face. “My age is showing, isn’t it?”

“No, I know the reference.” A cork popped from behind the bar startling Eve who turned to look. Villanelle stepped closer, leaving three chairs between them. “Boris, no.” She paused and gave an appreciative nod of the head, “Natasha? Sexy. But, no.” She extended a hand, “Villanelle.”

“It’s different!” Her eyebrow raised as they shook hands. “But it’s nice. I like it.” Eve was quick to add.

A champagne flute garnished with a lemon twist clinked on the bartop in front of Villanelle. “Would you like to cash out now or keep a tab going?” The woman from earlier asked. 

“A tab, thank you.” Villanelle said, settling in a chair just a seat away from Eve, her overcoat draped over the back. 

“Would you like another?” The bartender asked, already prepping a clean glass for her. “Same thing?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Eve said. After a moment of respective silence and once Eve received her next drink, the conversation picked up again. “So, Villanelle. You came all the way to Harlaxton to learn gardening skills.”

“More or less.” The bubbles of the champagne danced around her stomach along with the butterflies that hadn’t left from earlier. “I’m on a holiday of sorts.”

“What do you do for a living?” Eve asked. Before Villanelle could reply, “Wait! Let me guess this, I might have better luck.” She looked down at Villanelle’s outfit and pursed her lips. “You’re a clothing designer.”

“No.”

“International assassin?" she joked.

“I hear they’re paid extremely well but unfortunately, no.”

Eve thought again. “An actor?”

Villanelle raised her brows, impressed. “Yes actually.”

Eve smiled and titled her head. “Are you famous?”

No way around this one. “Define famous.”

“Are you well known?”

“Yes.”

“Film?”

“No.”

“Television?” 

A shake of the head.

“West End?” Villanelle gave her another impressed nod and enjoyed Eve’s smile of success. “Aren’t you always worried about people recognizing you?”

“In London, yes," she replied then looked around the small little bar they were in. “But not as much here. It’s actually nice.” Villanelle said and turned her body back to Eve, placing her arm over the back of the chair between them.

“Should I ask for your autograph?” Eve said with a playful wave of her hand.

“You don’t know if I’m any good, yet." she said cockily. 

“Obviously if you’re on the West End you have to be somewhat talented.” Eve scoffed. 

“You’d be surprised.” Villanelle offered over the top of her glass and made a face.

Eve covered her mouth as she gave an amused laugh. "I’m sorry for all the questions, I’m sure you’re used to it.”

“You have asked a lot so far, yes. But I don’t mind as long as you return the favor.” Villanelle said. "How about we take turns.”

Eve furrowed her brow for a moment and shrugged. “I’m not as interesting, but sure. What do you want to know?”

 _Everything._ Villanelle thought, pulling her bottom lip under her teeth. 

“Are you from the United States?” Villanelle asked, in reference to Eve’s American accent that she liked very much. 

“I was born here but raised in Connecticut. I moved back after highschool.” Eve answered and sipped her drink. “Have you been to the States before?”

“No, not yet. I would like to eventually.” Villanelle answered and paused, watching Eve run a hand over her hair. Something was troubling her. “Why are you upset?” 

“I’m not.” Eve instinctively lied.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Villanelle leaned over slightly, “But something is bothering you. You ran off earlier.” She gave her a meaningful look. 

Eve mused, taking another long sip of her drink. “Well it’s a loaded question.” She perked up and half heartedly joked, “How long do you have?”

“As much as you’ll give me.” Villanelle gave Eve her full attention. 

Eve set down her drink and sighed. Judging by her expression, sharing was not something Eve did often. “My husband and I are divorcing.”

“Why-“

“Ah!” Eve cut her off. “It’s my turn for a question.” Villanelle bit back the small curve of her lips as Eve thought it through. “So, you are an actress on the West End… Are you in any shows?”

“Yes. An Anton Chekov play that just opened. But I was suspended temporarily.” She took a sip out of her champagne flute and avoided Eve’s gaze. She hoped Eve would take the bait.

“Suspended, why?”

This game was fun. Villanelle set her drink down and leaned on her elbow towards Eve. “I broke my Directors nose after he insulted and put his hands on me." 

Eve hesitated for a moment, taking in what was said. She wasn’t sure if Villanelle was being serious or not. When she realized Villanelle was, her eyes went wide. “God, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Him, not so much.” She gave an irresistible smirk knowing that Eve fell into the trap she’d placed. “But now I have three questions.” Eve’s eyes sparkled in recognition and Villanelle bit her lip, her eyes glanced down at Eve’s lips for a quick moment. “I’m really sorry to hear about your divorce.” Villanelle said earnestly, though a huge part of her was relieved that this was not her past playing a cruel trick on her. Sitting back in the chair and crossing her legs. “Did you leave him?”

Eve simply shook her head. 

“That’s a shame.” She looked into Eve’s eyes. A pause. “Do you think you’ll be happier without him?”

“I think I could learn to be.” Eve replied honestly, her face looked flushed in the lights of the bar. Villanelle wondered how long she had been here before she arrived, Eve didn’t sound inebriated. Reaching behind her head, Eve released the brown curls that a simple hair tie held in place and ran her fingers through her thick waves. Villanelle caught the scent of lavender in the air. As she started to pull her hair back up, Villanelle stopped her. 

“Wear it down.” Villanelle said. Eve simply looked over at her. “It suits you.” Eve slowly released her curls, fluffed them again, and put the hair tie on her wrist. Eve’s expression was hard to read.

After a moment more, Eve spoke. “You have one more question before my next one.”

“Did you love him?” The question was blunt and Villanelle was probably overstepping, but there weren’t any rules established in the game they were playing. 

“Of course, I did.” Eve’s response was defensive but her tone shifted when she caught herself. “I still love him. But after everything, it’s not the same. We both just…changed. But not for the better.”

Villanelle leaned forward in earnest. “But you’re free now, Eve. You can be anyone you want to be now.” It was a peace offering, optimism that Villanelle hoped soothed the hurt Eve must feel.

“How old are you?” Eve’s question came suddenly, out of left field.

“You know it’s never polite to ask a lady her age.” She lightened her tone, placing a hand on her chest. Eve’s eye roll was not lost on Villanelle. “I’m old enough if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Old enough for what?”

 _You_. Villanelle almost said. “I’m twenty-eight.”

“Could I get you ladies another round?” Geraldine popped back by and took their empty glasses. Villanelle could have strangled her for the interruption. 

“Yes, please.” Villanelle answered for them both, her eyes polite but direct. Geraldine quickly made the drinks and set them down. The next question came quickly to not break momentum. “And you?” 

“Now who’s impolite?” Eve asked with a witty glance over at Villanelle. “Forty-one.” She took a sip. “How does your family feel about what happened to you at work?”

“I don’t think my Mother knows. We don’t talk.” She glossed over it and continued on with another quick question. Villanelle never wanted to talk about her family so she asked something to deflect. “Where would you recommend shopping around here?”

“Shopping? Not in Harlaxton. Newark-on-Trent is probably more promising.” Eve answered but pressed on with her train of thought despite sensing Villanelle’s hesitancy. “What about your Father?” 

Villanelle paused, she already felt like she’d overshared, but in truth it was only fair to answer her. Eve hadn’t shied away from any of Villanelle’s yet. “He died when I was young.” Something about Eve made it hard not to tell the truth.

“I’m so sorry.” 

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” 

Eve put her glass down on the countertop as her eyes cast down. “My Father died last year." she offered in shared sympathy.

“Were you close?” Villanelle asked, a thought began nagging at the back of Villanelle’s brain.

“Very.” Eve said, turning her glass in a circle on the bar.

“What was he like?” Villanelle asked, leaning forward against the chair between them.

Eve turned and smiled distantly, Villanelle’s gentle gaze made her continue. “He was intelligent, taught me Korean and French. Painfully optimistic and thoughtful! Bertie’s garden was his idea when her husband died. The garden supply, Henry’s, was actually his. I took it over when he got sick." she said in reference to their meeting earlier.

So her Father’s name was Henry. “Do you have any other family?”

“My Mother, but she moved away after they separated when I was thirteen. He practically raised me from then on. It was messy at times but he never once forgot a birthday.” She gave a small chuckle as she grabbed her glass again. “He always kept a journal of things he wanted to remember.” 

Villanelle’s chest tensed as she became hyper aware of the lump in her coat pocket pressed against her hip. Instinctively, she reached into the pocket. That must be the missing puzzle piece. The journal belonged to Eve’s father. 

Eve exhaled a breath and adjusted in her seat, expelling the tension in the air. It pulled them both out of their thoughts. “I promise my next three questions won’t be as deep.”

“Your next three?” Villanelle asked looking at Eve, pulling her hand away from her coat nonchalantly. This discovery jarred her to say the least. When Eve echoed her own cheeky smile from earlier, Villanelle realized that she’d unconsciously trapped herself. “Oh, you’re good.” Villanelle purred.

Eve went to speak but the chime of the door’s bell rang through the bar and a voice called from behind Villanelle suddenly.

“Eve!” 

“Bill!” Eve’s attention shifted from Villanelle’s heavy gaze and she waved at the man who was walking towards them.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Keiko had a call with her family, so I had to put the baby to bed before I came.” He walked over and gave Eve a friendly kiss on the cheek. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” He asked, now taking in the sight of Villanelle whose expression looked amiable but unreadable.

“We were just having a chat.” Eve looked from Villanelle back to him. “Bill, this is Villanelle. She’s visiting from London.”

“A striking name.” He said with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” Bill gave her a nod of his ahead that put her in mind of someone bowing to a monarch.

“Bill is—” Eve began to explain but was cut off.

“The love of your life?” He teased and wrapped his arm around Eve’s shoulders, Bill’s charm was lax and casual. “Platonically of course.” What normally would come across as overbearing and creepy on some men, didn’t read that way with Bill. It was obvious he genuinely cared about Eve. She could tell that he had a colorful spirit underneath his drab domestic façade.

“I was going to say my closest friend.” Eve nudged him in the ribs and gave a chuckle. “That sounds much more involved.”

“It’s good to have many loves in life.” Villanelle jested along with Bill. “Platonic or not so much...” Her eyebrow cocked very subtly. “It’s nice to meet you, Bill.”

“Russian!” Bill’s eyes lit up with a gasp. “Now that’s something Harlaxton doesn’t see every day!” As he went to remove his jacket, Eve pointed at his shirt.

“I think you, uh…” She pointed to his shoulder and made a circle in the air over the spot. “You have a little something there.”

“Oh, wonderful!” He said as he tugged at his shirt to see the spot. “Pureed peas. I guess my daughter figured I’d be hungry later.” He sighed. “Never have a baby in your 50’s.”

“I don’t plan on it-”

“Not for me-”

It was said almost in tandem by both women. They instantly caught each other’s eye.

“I’ll be back in two shakes. I’m going to see if I can get this out.” Bill dropped his jacket on the seat in between them and walked towards the washrooms.

Eve put her hand to her temple for a moment and shook her head in disbelief. “I completely forgot I asked Bill to join me tonight.”

“It’s alright.” Villanelle finished the contents in her glass and waved to get Geraldine’s attention. She passed a few notes over to Geraldine for her tab and smiled over at Eve when she spoke. “I’ll cover the next round for Eve and her friend, other than that you can keep the change.” Judging by Geraldine’s expression, the money Villanelle gave her was more than enough for the tab and the tip.

“Thank you! Please… Come back soon.” The woman said to Villanelle as she turned towards the till in the back, counting the bills.

“I’m in Harlaxton for a short while. I hope for more happy accidents.” Villanelle stood from her seat and grabbed a stray pen left on the bar. She scribbled her number on a napkin. When she slid it towards Eve her hand brushed hers. “If you ever need anyone to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Eve replied looking down at the napkin and then to Villanelle’s face. Her expression was again, unreadable.

“See you soon.” Villanelle said with a curve of her lips. 

* * *

“See you soon.” Eve said gently almost to herself as she watched Villanelle walk away. Every step Villanelle took was so sure and confident. Eve raked her eyes upwards as Bill returned behind her, she snapped her head to him quickly. 

“Where did your new friend go?”

Eve jumped a little and turned back to Bill. “She just left.”

“Shame.” Bill said, sitting in a chair next to Eve. She gave a small chuckle at the shoulder of his shirt which was now completely soaked. “She was rather intriguing!”

Eve nodded in agreeance.

“Very…intense.” He said, focusing his eyes like Villanelle’s had been. ”The usual, Geraldine.” He asked politely across the bar. He eyed the napkin Eve was holding. “What’s that?”

“What?” Eve asked, she suddenly seemed a bit aloof.

“Did she give you her number?”

“Oh.” She looked down on the death grip she had on it. “Yeah, she did.” Eve shaking her head as she pocketed it, casually.

“My, you’re bouncing back quite quickly!” He teased her.

“Come on Bill." she said. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like what?” Bill asked. “That one college story you always bring up when you’re three sheets to the wind?”

“One time! I told you that story one time and you won’t stop teasing me about it!”

“It was a riveting story!” Bill said as he grabbed his drink. “Wild and sexy. _Forbidden_...” He trailed off.

“It was a one-time thing a million years ago.” Eve countered, nudging his arm. “Can we talk about something else?”

“There’s nothing wrong with bisexuality.” He said, this was a soapbox he enjoyed getting on often. “I’ve already told you about when I lived in Berlin.”

“Yes and I’m never going to get the rubber chap image out of my head.” She covered her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Thank you for that.”

Bill gave a throaty chuckle and set his drink down. “How did the meeting with Niko go today?”

“God,” Eve’s shoulder’s sunk. “I don’t really want to talk about that either.”

“The attractive Russian stranger seems to be the only moderately safe topic of conversation so far!” Bill said as he tapped his fingers on the bar. 

Eve gave him a weary look. “You’re looking at a divorced woman.” It needed to be said out loud so she could continue to process it fully. She looked at the wedding ring still sitting proudly on her finger, under her direct gaze the cold metal felt like it could singe her skin. “Niko stopped by the shop with the final paperwork.”

“Ah, I see.” Bill said gently. “That explains a lot.” 

“You should have seen him, Bill. He’s so…different.”

“How so?” He asked, sitting back with his beer in his hand.

“It’s like he’s not even trying to be cordial with me anymore. Niko practically seethed when he told me that he was picking up the rest of his things from the house.” Eve gave a weak huff. “Apparently he took the couch. I always hated it anyway.” She ran a hand through her hair and pressed her lips together. “He blamed me for ruining our marriage today.” 

“That’s codswallop and you know it.” Bill said, reaching out and grabbing Eve’s shoulder. “It took both of you to make it work in the first place. It’s the same when it falls apart.”

“Not according to him.” Eve pressed her lips together. “The decisions ‘I’ started making were selfish.”

“All of them or just the job offer in Poland?”

“I understand his frustration with me having to take over the shop, it wasn’t necessarily what I thought I’d end up doing but… You know how quickly he got sick. But...” She turned to Bill again, angry. “You know what I found out today? Niko accepted the job offer before he told me anything about it. The University had reached out to him long before he actually told me.”

He gasped softly in disbelief. “You’re joking.” Bill’s eyes fell. “How long had he known?”

“I don’t know. But he accepted it the day before the funeral despite telling him no.” Eve said and her jaw tightened. “I can’t fucking believe that. He knew what my father meant to me…” Frustrated tears welled behind her eyes, Eve blinked them back. “ _If you can’t support me, I can’t support you, Eve._ ” she quoted Niko. 

“It sounds to me that Niko can’t believe that when he asked for your honest opinion, you actually gave it.” Bill said over the top of his glass. He never hid his frustration with Niko from Eve, it was always subdued so Eve still felt supported regardless of what he felt. “He obviously wasn’t prepared for it not being what _he_ wanted you to say. That’s not something that you should feel responsible for.”

As one tear slipped past, she looked up disheartened. “How could I let it get so out of hand...” She wiped at her eyes as a few more tears fell. She did not want to do this here. Eve drained the rest of her glass, pressing her fist against her lips to aid the sting of the alcohol. She rarely got emotional so freely but with Bill and the aid of alcohol, it was getting harder to hold back. Bill gently stroked her shoulder. After a long moment, she spoke again softly, “Have I really changed that much, Bill?”

“You have. But not in a bad way.” Bill said, looking at her with soft eyes. “You’re a flower waiting to bloom again.”

“God! What an awful metaphor.” Eve said with a sad laugh that ripped from her throat, though it did make her smile.

“Poetry was never my strong point, Henry never let me forget that.” Bill said as he set down his glass. He lightened the conversation, “My dear, you’ve had a hellish year. But you are through the worst of it. It’s time to turn over a new leaf.” He suddenly got an idea. “You know what this calls for, right?”

“What?”

“Saturday evening we’re going to karaoke down the street. A night out is in order!”

“Oh, no.” The memory of Bill’s birthday washed over her. “We got so drunk last time… I was sick for two days, I don’t think my liver could take that again.”

“But did you have fun?”

Eve stuttered, “O-Of course, I did! But—”

“All the more reason to go again.” Eve went to protest again but Bill held up his hand, dismissing her. “No, it’s decided. I’ll invite a few friends and we’ll have a night of public humiliation and debauchery!” He laughed and studied Eve’s expression.

Eve took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine.” She gave in. “But you’re buying my drinks Saturday.”

“Deal!” Bill said, his eyes playful again. “A beautiful woman should never have to buy her own drinks, anyway! Your new friend obviously understands that concept…” Eve shook her head and ignored him. “What did you two talk about?”

“Not a lot. Just, uh…” Eve tried her best to downplay it, but her eyes lit up as she spoke. “We talked about her being an actor in London. I told her about the divorce and she asked about how I was feeling. We talked about how old we were and our families… Why are you looking at me like that?” Bill’s expression was determined now.

“You like her!” Bill gave a wide grin when Eve tried to deflect. “I knew it!”

“Bill!” Eve was embarrassed. She didn’t know how she felt about it all yet. “We just had a good conversation. Come on! She was just being nice. She’s not interested in me like that, Bill.”

“How do you know she’s not?” Bill reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “You are exquisite, Eve. But your reluctance to accept when someone might be interested in you astounds me.”

“But she’s a woman, Bill.” 

“And?” He asked plainly. “She’s beautiful and young…”

“I’m going to the restroom.” Eve said, final, excusing herself to the ladies. After washing her hands, she looked in the mirror and grabbed her hair tie to put hair back up.

 _“Wear it down.”_ The request had been direct but soft.

Eve flushed at the memory. 

She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her face from side to side. Eve didn’t know how to feel about the person staring back. Time had passed and while it had treated her well, this was entirely new territory. Was she attracted to Villanelle? The honest answer swirled in her brain amongst the hastily assembled red tape. She had only met Villanelle a few times but there was something there that made Eve feel… Alive? Awake? She couldn’t describe it. She felt seen.

Was this new Eve someone who could seduce or be seduced by a younger _woman_? 

All Eve was certain of was that, after learning more about Villanelle, she wanted to know everything. _What kind of friends does she have? What happened in her family? What does she do in her free time? Who does she do it with? Oh, god. Does she do_ it _? What would it be like with her?_ A knock on the restroom door brought her out of those last, surely alcohol induced, thoughts and back to Bill.

Bill had struck up a conversation with the two men at the end of the bar who were now laughing boisterously. Eve joined in and they had one more drink before she claimed exhaustion. She pulled out her phone and checked the time.

“Walk me home?” Eve asked though she didn’t have to; Bill always walked her home.

“You remember that blue dress you bought on a whim last year?” He said, offering his arm for Eve to take once they stepped outside. “You know the one I’m talking about, right? With the straps?”

“Yes." she answered carefully. “What about it?” 

“You should wear it on Saturday!”

Eve laughed and shook her head. “If it even fits anymore! Niko always said—"

“Ah-ah!” Bill put up his hand to stop her. “His opinion doesn’t matter anymore. You’re a free woman and you can wear a dress that will turn a few heads… Or just one.”

Eve was still unsure. She rolled her eyes and made an audible scoff. 

“Judging by what she was wearing tonight, someone should give her a run for her money. That is if she were to be invited...” He teased her and squeezed her arm. His meaning was not lost on Eve. 

They walked in contented silence the rest of the way to Eve’s home. When they arrived, Bill turned and gave her a warm hug. “I love you to the ends of the earth. I’m excited to see where life takes you now.” He released her gently. “Call me tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Goodnight!” Eve called out, she watched him leave for a moment and then went inside. Once the door was locked, she took in the sight of her home for the first time since speaking with Niko.

It looked practically empty. All of his bookcases had vanished and the couch was indeed gone. Artwork had been removed from the walls with the nails remaining as a last testament to their existence. She walked around the house, taking in every changed detail both big and small. Niko had taken everything he said he would. The feeling settling in her chest was not what she expected. Where grief ought to have been, something different was placed in its stead. Eve felt it in spades, washing everything else away: Relief.

It took all of twenty minutes before Eve was pulling out the napkin from her pocket. Charging up the stairs to her room she plopped on the bed and unlocked her phone. Carefully she typed the number into her contacts and typed the first draft of a text, which she erased as soon as she finished. Eve tried again but the message was even longer than the first. Rolling her eyes and letting out a quick sigh, she typed again and hit the send button immediately. The message read:

_‘Hey! Thank you for the drinks tonight.’_

Eve was proud of her brevity, but she quickly realized she hadn’t said who it was from. Another text followed.

_‘This is Eve, by the way.’_

After a few minutes of staring at the message screen she finally registered the time: 11:21pm. She quickly sent another text before she could stop herself.

_‘Sorry if I woke you up! I didn’t realize how late it was.’_

That last one wasn’t necessary. Eve kicked herself internally for it as she plugged her phone into the charger on the nightstand and busied herself by getting ready for bed. Teeth brushed and face washed, Eve padded back to her bed, settled into the sheets, and set her alarms for work the next morning. One last longing glance at her messages confirmed her suspicion that Villanelle was asleep which Eve should have been an hour ago. She clicked off the lamp, fluffed her pillow, and closed her eyes.

_Buzz!_

The screen of her phone lit up the dark room. Eve fumbled to grab it off the charger to read the text that came in.

‘ _I was hoping you hadn’t forgotten about me, Eve. Sleep well.’_

Not even a moment later another text came.

_‘This is Villanelle, by the way.’_

Eve grinned until she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GASP! Was that a POV shift? You're welcome, y'all. 
> 
> I loved all of your thoughts on the journal! This isn't as cool as some of the ideas you all came up with but I hope you enjoy the direction it is going nonetheless. I'm eager to continue this story!
> 
> Please forgive any errors you may find, I'm still in search of a proper BETA. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments! And as always, here is my tumblr: [allsoulsnight!](https://allsoulsnight.tumblr.com/)


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